


A Painting is Worth A Thousand Words

by aphamericanhero



Series: Usuk event writings [4]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Written for the usukustwiceperyear "uncommon professions" event, artist!Alfred, floral shop owner!Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-08-01 03:31:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16276979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphamericanhero/pseuds/aphamericanhero
Summary: Alfred is a free-lance painter who is commissioned by Arthur to paint flowers for his flower shop, and that’s just the start of their budding relationship. **Note: Bella is Belgium.





	A Painting is Worth A Thousand Words

Alfred didn’t think he was anything special. When he was younger, the other children thought he was weird and left him alone. Because of this, he spent all his time drawing and coloring, which of course didn’t help his situation, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. When Alfred's skills became noteworthy due to his years of practice, he didn’t think much of it. Even when he got noticed for it, receiving numerous scholarships for a variety of art schools, he still didn’t think he was very special. So now, as a free-lance painter, every commission he received was still always a surprise. 

Regardless of being surprised to receive one or not, almost every commission was the same, and Alfred wasn’t expecting this one to be anything different. One Arthur Kirkland wanted five floral paintings to decorate his shop. Alfred based the price of the job on materials and how much time it would take to complete his request. Once this was done, Alfred came into his shop to tell him the price. Kirkland nodded swallowing, and seemed to blush. Odd. He didn’t think there was anything suggestive about prices… The florist asked if it was ok to pay the artist a fifth of the cost for every painting completed, all while crossing his arms and avoiding eye-contact. He also made a third request, asking to be allowed to see Alfred’s progress anytime he wished. Alfred agreed, thinking nothing of it. Kirkland, blushing madly at his point, furiously scribbled down his number, telling Alfred to call him with any questions, and Alfred did the same. Looking back, if Alfred had registered how Kirkland was acting that day, he wouldn’t have been so surprised at what happened next.

Alfred was astonished when Mr. Kirkland, who insisted on being called  _Arthur,_ requested to visit the very next day. Alfred couldn’t deny this request, after all he  _did_ agree to let him stop by anytime he wanted. And so and there the florist was, awkwardly standing there while Alfred purchased his supplies. Kirkland's steely gaze sent shivers down his spine. “You know Mr. Kirk- I mean  _Arthur_ , you don’t  _have_ to be here. I promise you I’m going to do my job.” He said stiffly as he picked his paints, his head already swirling with the perfect colors for the job.

Arthur only crossed his arms. “Well, you agreed to let me check up on your progress _anytime_ _I_ _wanted,_ so here I am. After all,” he gestured to Alfred's cart “This _is_ progress. And, I do have to make sure the colors you pick won’t clash with my shop.”

Alfred stayed silent, not really knowing what to say to that. Arthur was already proving to be a close and distrustful eye, and Alfred was reluctant to admit that it was a blow to his pride. Still, he could do nothing about it, so Alfred shut up and made no further protests as he gathered all of his materials under the watchful gaze of Mr. Kirkland.

The next day, Arthur asked to see him again. Alfred couldn’t help to wonder what he could possibly want. Despite yesterday's surprising (and admittedly annoying) visit, he understood his concerns. But today? He hadn’t even started yet! What could possibly be the problem?!? He had been there when had purchased everything. Regardless, Alfred let him in. “I don’t mean to be rude Arthur, but don’t you have to work?”

His client shook his head. “I do appreciate the concern, but don’t fret. I do have trustworthy employees to run things in my place. In fact, my right hand man- er,  _woman,_ Bella, is taking over today.”

Alfred nodded, opening his fridge. “Do you want anything? Water, crackers, maybe even fruit?” He asked, trying to be a courteous host despite the slight annoyance at Arthur's presence.

“I don’t suppose you have any tea?” Arthur inquired, sitting down.

“Actually I do! You can sift through my selection if you’d like….” Alfred let Arthur browse through his teas and choose the one he wanted, putting out milk, sugar, a mug and preparing hot water for him. “So uh, what brings you here today?” 

Arthur put the tea bag in the cup. “Oh nothing. I just wanted to see you in action. See which flowers you plan on painting.”

“Actually I could use your help with that. I was thinking of painting some of your arrangements? Maybe your popular ones.” 

Arthur smiled, pouring the boiling water in his cup to steep. “That’s a splendid idea Alfred. I shall bring you a bouquet right away.” Arthur quickly finished making his tea and left, leaving the artist alone. Alfred exhaled in relief. He had never dealt with a client that was so involved with his work, and it was already putting Alfred off his game. He hadn’t even thought about the very subject of what he wanted to paint until Arthur had brought it up! Alfred sighed, trying to relax. He needed to calm his nerves. And what better way to do it than spend some time with nature? It was a nice day, so he could work outside. 

By the time he ate and set up his easel and canvas, Arthur had returned, holding several floral arrangements. “Here. You can choose the ones you like, and I will take the rest back. I can even bring others if not enough of these suit your fancy. 

Alfred picked up a vase. “I recognize the daisies, chrysanthemums, and tulips, but what are the rest of these?” 

Arthur smiled warmly. “orchids, hibiscus, and hydrangeas.” He sipped his tea. “Do you mind if I stay and watch you paint?”

Alfred shrugged. “I don’t see why not.” As long as he wasn’t disturbed, then there wasn’t going to be a problem. The artist always liked to start by sketching everything lightly on his canvas. He took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down and steady his hand. He didn’t want to mess up just because he had an audience. And so with more delicacy and caution than usual, he started forming the vase, often referencing the real-life counterpart Arthur had brought. Alfred took his time to capture every curve perfectly.

After a while the florist broke the silence. “So why painting?” He asked, long done with his tea.

Alfred had an answer, but of course, didn’t really feel like sharing his life story with a near-stranger. “It’s just always been the only option.” Alfred replied, trying to stay focused on his work.

Arthur nodded, thankfully satisfied with that answer. “I see. I wanted to be a writer, but it was always so frustrating. I used gardening to cope and I found that I liked it much better. So I stuck with it. Opened my own shop.”

“Ah,” Alfred said, focusing on the flowers as to draw them correctly. He must have had some kind of look on his face, because Arthur went inside, probably to get more tea. Alfred relaxed, feeling less tense now that Arthur was gone. He probably should have been more concerned about letting a stranger into his house alone, but he was too engrossed in his work to care.

After a bit of time, Arthur came back out, holding a cup of tea. “Look Alfred. I have to go back to my shop, you understand. I'll see you around. I’m assuming it’s ok to leave the flowers here. Call me with any questions.”

Alfred, too occupied with painting, didn’t notice how abrupt his departure was, and simply nodded, waved goodbye, then went back to work. It was only a few hours later when Alfred was cleaning up for the day that he realized that Arthur had stolen his cup.

***

The next day, there Arthur was again, holding the cup he stole yesterday. Honestly, Alfred thought it was just an excuse to see him again, and he only went inside yesterday in the first place to find said excuse.

“Hello Alfred. Last night I noticed I actually swiped your cup, so I figured that I should return it to you.” Yeah. “Accidently” his ass.

“What’s that you’re holding with you?” Alfred asked, just now noticing the box he carried in his other hand. 

“Oh these? They’re sandwiches. I thought you appreciate a snack while you worked so I brought these. I would have made these myself but Bella always tells me I’m a bad cook.” He set them down on the table, along with the mug. Alfred brought out some plates and lemonade while Arthur opened the box. They sat down to eat in silence, but Arthur quickly broke it. “Alfred, yesterday you mentioned how being an artist was always your only option. If you don’t mind me asking, what did you mean by that?”

Alfred tensed. He wasn’t expecting him to pry into his life like that. Frankly, it was a little rude to ask your “customer” such personal questions. 

As if reading his mind, Arthur continued. “I understand if it’s too personal of a question. I have no business inquiring into your life.” The florist sipped his lemonade and made no further attempts at conversation. 

And honestly, Alfred should have agreed with what he said and left it at that. He barely knew the man, but still, he seemed kind, seemed interested in him as a  _person._ It had been such a long time since anyone had asked about him, shown that they cared about  _him_ and not what he could do for  _them_ . He wanted to open up to  _someone_ . Someone that showed interest in what he wanted to say. And maybe it was a bit unconventional, but right now, Alfred didn’t care. 

“Arthur,” Arthur looked up. “I’m going to tell you why I said that art has always been the only option for me, but you have to promise you won’t tell anyone else. People talk, and I don’t want rumors being spread about me.” 

Arthur put down his drink and nodded. “I promise not to tell. My lips are sealed.”

Alfred wrung his hands. He had told very few people about what he was about to say to Arthur. He took a deep breath, and began to speak. “When I was a child, I wasn’t as rowdy or loud as the other kids. It didn’t help that I wasn’t very athletic either.” Alfred chuckled humorlessly. “All the other kids labeled me as a “black sheep” and I was left all alone. I was incredibly lonely.” Alfred looked up at Arthur, who was listening intently. “One day I picked up some chalk, and started to draw. I found that I liked it to some degree; it gave me something to do at least. After that, I spent all my time drawing. All the other kids around me formed friendships. I only had my notebook and a pencil. So growing up, I was bullied. Spitballs and mean notes slipped into my locker. To them I  was “weird,” “strange,” a “creepy loser,” you name it. So with nothing to do but practice my craft, I became exponentially good at it. So good, colleges noticed me. I had no choice but to get a degree for art.”

“But what did you want to do?” Arthur said, looking at him with a concerned face.

Alfred smiled sadly, “I wanted to be an astronaut. But that dream is long dead. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s in the past. And I like to paint, so it’s not like I hate my job.” Alfred coughed and stood up. “Anyway, I should get back to work.” Alfred said and cleaned up after himself. He then quickly went back outside, trying to hide the tears on his face from the florist.

***

Alfred fully expected Arthur to leave him alone after that. Yet, he didn’t. As Alfred worked, Arthur told him stories about his childhood, how his brothers used to play pranks on him such as replacing the toothpaste with mayonnaise. The artist laughed, and conversation between them was easy after that. Alfred told him about how disastrous his first commission was, and Arthur responded with how Bella tried to teach him how to cook once, but it ended up with Arthur burning everything. Alfred then told Arthur about everything space, and Arthur told him about everything mythical and occult, and despite Alfred’s protests, insisted that everything he was telling him was indeed real. The hours flew by, and when Arthur had to go, Alfred was surprised to find that he really didn’t want him to. Continuing on with the surprises, Arthur gave him a tight hug before he left, and thanked him. If someone asked him, Alfred would be reluctant to admit that there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 

As expected, Arthur came the next day, this time with Bella's signature waffles. It was like Arthur had never left, and the two fell right back to where they were yesterday. And over the next week and a half it became a ritual: Arthur would visit, bring treats, and the two would talk the day away while Alfred painted. Days when the florist actually had to work were Alfred's loneliest, even more so than before he knew him, as days with Arthur had become the happiest he had known in a while. And as time when on, Alfred started to notice more and more when the two accidentally brushed hands or touched. He caught himself blushing when Arthur smiled at him, felt his heart skip a beat when he laughed, found himself lingering a bit longer than necessary in their hugs, caught himself thinking of him constantly when he was away, and even missing him. Alfred tried to clear his head, for he knew what he was feeling for his “employer” was unprofessional, but he couldn’t help it. Just everything the florist did was cute. 

Unfortunately all good things come to an end, and eventually Alfred finished his paintings. He washed out all of Arthur’s vases, and returned them to him.  He dreaded the day he would have to present his final piece and collect the last of his money, but Alfred knew their “contract” couldn’t last forever.

Alfred walked into Arthur’s shop and saw him talking to a woman who he assumed was Bella. Bella noticed Alfred first and smiled at him, leaving to give the two of them some privacy. When Arthur turned around to speak to him, Alfred tried to drill his face into his memory, never wanting to forget it.

“Here’s the last one.” Alfred said, trying not to let his voice crack with the ache he felt in his chest.

Arthur smiled and took it. “Thank you. And here’s the last of what I owe you.” He slid the money across the counter, and Alfred pocketed it. That was it, it was over, they had no more obligations to each other, but yet, Alfred couldn’t bring himself to leave. 

Arthur sighed. “Look, Alfred, you’ve been absolutely wonderful and I appreciate everything you’ve done. Your hospitality, telling me about your life. I know that was very difficult for you, so truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. You’re always welcome here. But before you go…” Arthur brought out a vase, the very same vase he brought on that faithful first day, with the exact same arrangement of flowers, the only difference being one red rose in the middle. “I couldn’t live with myself if you left and I never told you how I felt. And why not tell you now, so if you reject me you can leave and never see me again? When I first met you, I figured since you are an artistic man, that you’d also understand the language of flowers. I was silly to correlate the two, so please forgive me.”

At this point Alfred was very confused. “Arthur, what are you saying?” 

The florist smiled. “What I’ve been trying to say since day one. Though thankfully you didn’t notice, in retrospect that probably would’ve scared you off. Alfred, do you know what any of these flowers mean?” The artist shook his head. Arthur chuckled. “Well, let me give you a mini-lesson. Orchids represent beauty, daisies innocence, hydrangeas, specifically purple ones, represent a desire to deeply understand something or someone, hibiscuses are also beauty, yellow chrysanthemums joy, yellow tulips unrequited love, and of course the red rose, love. Do you understand what I’m saying Alfred? I’m saying that I’ve had a bit of a crush on you since the day we first met. I mean, why else do you think I visited you everyday? Those feelings only grew as we got to know each other, and dare I say it, I think I love you.”

Alfred was over the moon. “Really?” 

Arthur nodded. “Really.” 

Alfred went over the counter and hugged Arthur tightly, laughing out of pure joy. “I love you too. Thank you Arthur. Thank you for everything.”

They kissed sweetly after that, not letting go of the other for a while. Eventually Arthur pulled away. “Well you already have my number. Let’s say we go on a proper date. And no, the time I spent at your house doesn’t count.”  

Alfred chuckled. “Ok ok. Are you free Saturday night?” 

“I should be, but I’ll clear my schedule regardless.”

“You know now that I don’t have any work to do, I’m going to take you up on your invitation to stop by anytime.”

Arthur smiled and kissed Alfred on the cheek. “You know I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find the whole collection of usukustwiceperyear's 2018 event @ usuktwiceperyear.tumblr.com!


End file.
